


Basophobia

by KiaraMGrey



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 11:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19973509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiaraMGrey/pseuds/KiaraMGrey
Summary: Aziraphale is fine to live out his life in quiet contentment. He is comfortable being alone. It’s safe, and safe is smart. He has long accepted that this is how it’ll be for the rest of his life. That is, until someone new moves in across the hall from him.Crowley is everything Aziraphale isn't. Confident, boisterous, a party animal. And completely beautiful.





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale stared at the popcorn ceiling of his small flat. He sighed deeply, and then rolled over to press his pillow over his head. It did nothing to dampen the sound of music that was currently pumping through his walls. Lifting his head slightly, he glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand and let out a groan. 1:08 AM. He had to be up in five hours. He squeezed his eyes shut praying that the music would spontaneously stop. It didn’t, of course. He let out another sigh, and then got out of bed. He slid on his beige house slippers and wrapped his tartan robe around himself. 

He did not consider himself an unreasonable man, nor an angry one, but this was just ridiculous. What sort of person threw a wild party into the hours of morning on a Thursday? He had yet to meet his neighbor, who had moved in just a few weeks ago, and had no idea what to expect. He did think it quite odd that he had yet to meet them. One would figure you would run into someone you lived across from at least once after three weeks. But perhaps if these were the hours they kept, he knew the reason. 

He tightened the sash around his waist and opened his door. The sound of music intensified. He straightened up and took a deep breath, steadying himself for what he was a bout to do. He hated confrontation. And he certainly didn’t want to make enemies of his neighbor. But he simply would not be taken advantage of or pushed over. He had to stop this now. He marched across the hall and knocked, hard. 

There was a moment where he considered turning and running back into his flat, but then the door opened. His eyes were momentarily assaulted by flashing lights. He blinked and lifted a hand, then focused on the person in front of him. His breath caught in his throat. A young man stood before him. He looked somewhere between twenty-five and thirty, close in age to Aziraphale. Red hair hung almost to his shoulders, and he wore sunglasses, even though it was night. 

As he had opened the door, he had been faced away from Aziraphale, laughing at something someone inside had said. But when he turned to face him, Aziraphale noticed that his face seemed to register shock for a moment. But it was gone just as quickly as it had come, and he flashed a dazzling smile. 

“Are you here for the party?”

Aziraphale gaped him for a moment before rearranging his features and into something more professional and stern.

“No, I most certainly am not. Do I look like I’m dressed for a party?”

The mans eyes slid down Aziraphale’s form, taking in the bathrobe and slippers. Aziraphale tightened his fists and swallowed. He felt much less dressed than he was. 

“Maybe. Depends on the party.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Well as I said. I am not here for the party. I’m actually your neighbor. I live here, just across the way.”

The mans eyes lifted to the door behind Aziraphale. “Ah, I see. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand, that charming smile still on his face. “Anthony Crowley. But just call me Crowley.”

Aziraphale glanced down at the hand. He had not come over to introduce himself, certainly not like this, but it was practically impossible for him to be rude. He shook the hand. 

“Aziraphale Fell.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “That’s certainly a name.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Yes, I suppose it is. Anyhow, that’s not why I came over. Do you know what time it is?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, then lifted his watch to his face. “Looks like it’s a quarter past one. Do you not have any clocks in your apartment?”

Aziraphale felt himself turning a bit red. “Of course I do! That’s the point! It’s a Thursday and I need to be awake in five hours. Your music is incredibly loud and is making it impossible for me to sleep!”

Crowley stared at him. It was impossible for Aziraphale to read his expression from behind those sunglasses.  
“Do you want to come in?”

Aziraphale sputtered. Was this man insane, or just extremely drunk? “Did you not here me? I need to go to sleep!”

A smirk pulled at his lips. “I heard you. I just think it would do you good to have some fun.”

Aziraphale frowned. “I don’t like crowds of people.”

“I’ll kick everyone else out.”

Aziraphale stared at him. He assumed he was joking, but he said it in such a serious tone. “Well then it wouldn’t be much of a party, would it?”

An eyebrow raised about the glasses. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m a walking party all on my own.”

Aziraphale was at a loss for words. Crowley leaned against the doorframe, as though waiting for an answer. Aziraphale could smell the liquor pouring of him. “No, I don’t think so. It’s quite late and I would rather go to sleep. You may continue to… party, but if you could turn down the music, I would appreciate it.”

He turned to leave, but before he could move more than a step, he felt Crowley’s hand around his wrist. He froze, a breath caught in his chest. He turned back around slowly, looking from the slim fingers currently wrapped around his wrist, to the face of the young man they belonged to. At the look of complete shock on Aziraphale’s face, Crowley let him go. 

Crowley leaned forward, his words slurring slightly. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m being an ass, aren’t I?”

Aziraphale wanted to say yes, but he found his words were still stuck in his throat. Crowley tilted his head. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll treat you to lunch, wherever you like.”

Aziraphale knew his face was flushing red and forced words out of his mouth. “No. No that’s not necessary! Just, please, turn down the music!”

With that he spun and raced back into his flat. He slammed the door behind him and pressed his back to it. He knew his face was still bright red, and he felt incredibly warm. The image of that smirk and the feel of his hand on his wrist was burned into his memory. And what was that about lunch? Had he been asking him out on a date? Aziraphale closed his eyes and shook his head. 

Don’t be stupid. He was probably straight. And he was certainly drunk. The man clearly hadn’t been thinking straight and was trying to make amends with a fussy neighbor. Besides, men that looked like that didn’t go after men that looked like him. He had discovered than many times in his life. He let out a sigh. With any luck, his neighbor would quiet down and they could go back to not knowing each other. That would be best for everyone. 

************************************

What Aziraphale did not see, as he had run away and slammed the door, was Crowley still standing in the doorway for several moments after he had gone. He stared at the closed door across from him, a small frown on his face. He then closed his eyes and smacked his head against the door frame. 

“Fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley wakes up from a drunken night of partying, only to remember what he did.

Crowley opened his eyes slowly. The first thing he noticed was that his glasses seemed to have fallen off his face at some point. The second thing he noticed, was that his flat was a mess. Beer cans and red cups were strewn across the coffee table and over the floor. He groaned and began to sit up, and this was when he noticed a third thing. He wasn’t wearing any pants. 

“Good morning. Or should I say good afternoon?”

Crowley yelped and turned around. “Anathema? What are you still doing here?”

Anathema stood in the doorway to his kitchen with a large plastic bag in one hand a rubber glove on the other. She still wore the long, flowing dress from the night before, along with her round glasses.

“I didn’t want to walk home last night after drinking, and you passed out on the couch, so I figured your bed was free real-estate.”

Crowley dragged his glasses off the floor and settled them on his face. “But what are you still doing here?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well I figured nobody else was going to help you clean this mess up. And knowing you, it would take until the next party for you to get this all put away.”

He rubbed his temples and stared at her through his glasses. “What happened last night? I haven’t blackout in years. I can’t remember falling asleep.”

A slow smile slid onto her face. “Yeah, you were doing fine until that neighbor came over to tell you to turn the music down. Then you did six shots in succession and started talking about how he couldn’t boss you around. But then it turned into you moping on my shoulder about how you had messed the whole meeting up. Something about how you had a plan and now it had gone to shit.”

Crowley stared at her aghast. The memories came flooding back. His neighbor. He rolled over on the couch and pressed his face into the cushions. The image of his neighbor in his bathrobe and slippers came to him immediately. 

The party had been going great. The music had been coursing through him and the alcohol had been flowing. Crowley prided himself on throwing the best parties out of everyone he knew. He had already been quite drunk when there was a knock at the door. Anathema had joked that their luck had finally run out and it was the cops. He had laughed as he opened the door, but that laugh had died as soon as he saw who it was. His neighbor had stood there, staring right at him with a similarly surprised expression. Crowley remembered trying to save himself with a smile. The details became a bit fuzzy after that, but Crowley remembered him getting very angry and telling him to turn the music down. And then… had Crowley flirted with him? Oh. Oh God. He had. He had invited him in and told him that he would kick everyone else out. And the poor man had looked very confused and outright told him no. He probably thought he was some sex obsesses creep who casually took to inviting strangers in for a party of two. Oh, that was not good. And Crowley HAD had a plan. Because last night was not the first night he had seen him. 

The first time had been the day after he moved in. He had woken from a midday nap, around five o’clock, and had heard a commotion in the hall. Dragging himself from his couch, he had peered through the peep hole on his door. He saw a man with wild blonde curls and a tan suit jacket balancing several books in his arms as he tried to unlock his door. 

“Oh, drat!” the man cursed, lifting knee to stop the books from falling. 

Crowley smiled to himself. Drat? Who said drat nowadays? He realized that he should probably go out and help, be neighborly and all, but then the man swung the door open and stepped in. Crowley watched as he set the books down out of sight, likely on a table. Then he turned around to shut the door and looked right at Crowley’s door. Crowley’s amber eyes widened as he looked into the others bright blue. Even through the door he could see the light that emitted from them. They looked… kind. But then his neighbor shut his door and was gone. Crowley had stepped back from his door and taken a deep breath. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t normally one to catch their breath at the sight of another person, especially not through a door when that person couldn’t even see him. He shook his head and tried to put his neighbor out of his mind. 

The next time he had seen him had been three days later. Crowley had been lounging in his bed, the window of his second story room open to allow the light breeze and good weather in. He had been minding his business, scrolling through his phone, when he had heard singing coming from outside. Well, perhaps not singing, but humming. Without thinking he had gotten up from his bed and stared down at the street below. He had recognized his neighbor immediately. He wore the same suit, or perhaps a very similar one, to the one he had been wearing just a few days ago. He walked with his hands behind his back and was humming quite loudly to some song Crowley didn’t know. He wore a small smile on his face, and he looked content. Despite himself, Crowley found he was leaning slightly out the window, trying to get a better look at him as he passed by. He had leaned forward on his elbows, smiling after the blonde man. But then the man had dropped something and turned to pick it up. Crowley had flung himself backwards into his room, desperate to not be seen gawking at his neighbor. He had laid on the floor for a good several minutes, wondering what the hell had gotten into him. 

After that, he had figured out what his routine was. He didn’t know what time he left in the morning, as Crowley was always asleep at that time, but he always came home between five and five thirty. Crowley assumed he was returning from a job. Sometimes he would come home with a bag of takeout, or a brown grocery bag, or more books.   
Though Crowley wouldn’t admit it, he was looking for signs of someone else. A partner, perhaps. He didn’t know for sure if the man was gay, of course, though he certainly got the vibe. But either way, there was never anyone. He always came alone. 

Crowley wouldn’t say that he necessarily had a type, but he never would have guessed it would be a short, slightly thick man in a tartan suit. He couldn’t figure out what it was about the man that had drawn him in. A dark part of his mind said it was the innocence that rolled off him. Crowley was anything but innocent, and he wondered if it was the thought of corrupting someone so soft. But, no, he didn’t think that was it. Because every time he saw the man, he watched him with a feeling of gentle contentment. That wasn’t something Crowley was used to feeling. And he didn’t want to change that about his neighbor, even if he had never even spoken to him. 

But he had planned on changing that. He had decided that this week, when the man was coming home, he would leave at just the right time, making sure to bump into him. Perhaps the man would drop what he was holding, and Crowley would stop and help him pick it up. They would laugh and chat, perhaps the man would tell him why he was always bringing so many books into his flat. And then Crowley would mention that he hadn’t eaten yet, and would he like to join him at the deli down the street? Nothing serious, just a neighbor being friendly. Surely, he couldn’t object to that. From there he would be able to figure out if the man was anything like the person Crowley created in his head. Someone kind and generous, who enjoyed humming old show tunes and reading thick old tomes by firelight in the cold months. Someone who could cook, but didn’t particularly enjoy it, so he ate out most nights. Someone with a smile that could light up a city and eyes the color of the sky on the day after it’s rained. And from there he could decide if his ridiculous obsession had any merit to it. 

But no, he had messed that all up. Why hadn’t he thought about his poor neighbor when he had decided to throw a wild party on a weeknight? Of course he had to be up early. How had Crowley forgotten? At his old residence, it had just been him, a couple of college kids across the hall, and deaf downstairs neighbor. He had been able to have as many wild parties as he had liked. But not anymore. 

He had ruined everything. His neighbor would never want to speak to him again, not after he had come on so strong, in the middle of the night, while he was in his bathrobe asking for him to quiet down. Like some sleazy creep. He winced and pushed his face further into the cushion, the image of those bright eyes staring at him in shock and confusion refusing to leave. He had wanted him to look at him, but not like that. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Look, not to interrupt your internal meltdown, but could you get up and help? This is your flat, after all, and I’m not a maid.”

Crowley looked up and glared at her. “I didn’t ask you to stay and clean up.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Shall I leave you to clean it on your own then?”

Crowley glared for a moment more before letting out a sigh and getting up. “No, fine, you’re right. Sorry.”

She smiled, tossing him the black trash bag. “It’s fine, I’m used to you by now. Besides, I get it. If I had messed up my chances with the cute neighbor I had been pining over for weeks, I’d be upset too.”

Crowley gaped at her. “You really think I messed up my chances?”

She shrugged one of her delicate shoulders. “I don’t know, I’ve never met him. But I don’t think you have either, not properly. Do you even know his name?”

Crowley frowned. Yes, he had said his name. It had been a strange name. “Aziraphale. Yeah, Aziraphale Fell.”

“Well that’s a start. If I were you, I’d try to make it right.”

Crowley tossed some beer cans into his bag. “How?”

“Like I said, I don’t know him. But you’ve been watching him like a desperate creeper. Figure out what he likes and do something with it.”

Crowley threw a plastic cup at her. “I’m not a desperate creeper.”

Anathema raised both eyebrows and tilted her head. “Then stop acting like one. Get your act together and go be your normal smooth self.”

“I don’t even know if he likes men!” Crowley cried, flopping back on the couch. 

Anathema sighed deeply and sat beside him. “Crowley, I’ve known you for three years and I’ve never seen you act like this with anybody. And you don’t even know him! I think it’s worth the chance to find out, don’t you?”

Crowley frowned at the ceiling. He knew Anathema was right. And he knew that even if there was nothing between him and Aziraphale, even if he had no interest in him whatsoever, perhaps they could at least be friends. Yes, friends was certainly a step up from creep. He sighed. He would think of something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is such a mess. Let me know what you think of this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale thinks about his new neighbor.

Aziraphale wobbled slightly over his cup of tea. His eyelids were quite heavy, and he was having trouble focusing on what Newt was saying. 

“And I said, why should I have to look for something more? I’m perfectly happy where I am. I was right, wasn’t I?”

It took Aziraphale a moment to realize he had been asked a question. “Hmm? What was that dear boy, I didn’t hear you?”

Newt frowned in a look of concern. “Are you alright, Mr. Fell?”

“Oh yes, yes just fine. It’s just that I didn’t get to sleep until nearly two thirty in the morning last night.”

Newt’s eyebrows shot up. “Why so late? I haven’t known you to go to bed any later the nine.”

Aziraphale ran a hand over his face. “It’s my neighbor. He was having a raucous party into all hours of the night. After one I went over and told him to turn it down. He did, luckily.”

Newt had gotten up and was wiping down the counter where the register sat in the bookshop. “What sort of person throws a wild party on a Thursday?”

“That was my thought exactly! And when I went over there to tell him to turn it down, he had the nerve to invite me in. I was in my bathrobe for heavens sake! So I told him no, certainly not. Some of us have to work.”

Newt’s eyes widened. “You said that to him?”

“Well,” Aziraphale shifted in his chair, “Not that last part of it. But the rest, yes.”

“Wow,” Newt mumbled. “You only normally get like that when someone tries to buy one of your first editions.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Should I not have done it? I wasn’t trying to be rude, but it was so late! I had to come in to work.”

“I mean, you didn’t have to. I could have run the shop today.”

Aziraphale looked at him like he had lost his mind. In the ten years he had owned this shop, he never missed a day and always opened it himself. Last year, after a great deal of consideration, he had hired on Newt. He mostly cleaned the shop, dusting and vacuuming, and ran the register. The poor boy was horrible with technology, so it was lucky for him that Aziraphale used an old cash register from the forties. The boy was a bit bumbling, but he was capable. It left Aziraphale plenty of time to do what he actually wanted, which was mostly sit in his back room and read with a nice cup of tea. But even still, he preferred to be here while Newt was working. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the boy, but this shop and its books were his life. He couldn’t just put them in someone else’s hands.

“No, it’s quite alright. If you could just run the front of shop today, I think I will stay in the back.”

Newt nodded, and so Aziraphale made his way into his back room. He tried to not think about the things he hadn’t told Newt. About how his neighbor, Crowley, was extremely good looking. About how when he had smiled at him, his stomach had twisted in a way it hadn’t done in a very long time. About how he had grabbed his wrist and leaned towards him. He said nothing about that because he was ashamed. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about his neighbor. He had been drunk and clearly not thinking straight. A man like him would never give him a second glance under normal circumstances. Improper thoughts about him would do him no good. 

So instead, he set about making himself a cup of tea and settled down with a good book. He only got about four pages in when that damned smile slipped back into his thoughts. He closed his eyes. That didn’t help, because the image was there as well. 

“Stop it!” he said out loud. “Stop thinking of a man who you don’t know! For heavens sake, you’ve only spoken a few words to him, and you were reprimanding him! Like a teacher! He probably thinks you are a stuffy, no-fun-aloud man. He’s probably got a girlfriend! So, enough of that.”

He settled back with a sigh and was semi-successful in putting him out of his mind. Later that evening, after Newt had gone, he locked up the shop and set out on his ten-minute walk home. He considered buying groceries and cooking something for dinner, but then decided against it. He just wanted to settle in with some comfort food and get some more reading done. So instead he stopped at his favorite Indian restaurant and ordered a lovely sweet curry to go. 

He held his takeout bag firmly in one hand and swung the other as he walked, humming a classical tune to himself. As he approached his building, he had the strangest feeling he was being watched. He looked to the side, and the behind him, but he could see no one looking at him. He frowned and made his way inside and up the stairs to his flat. He was still humming as he approached his door, but he stopped when he noticed something on the floor in front of his door. He bent and picked it up. 

It was a bottle of wine. A rather good one, in fact. A vintage Cabernet Sauvignon. He turned the bottle over in his hand, hoping to see a note from whoever left it, but there was nothing. Who on Earth would leave a bottle of wine for him, in front of his home, for that? He knew many people, but they were all mostly acquaintances and knew him from his shop. If they wanted to bring him a gift, surely, they would bring it there. The only person he knew that he would possibly count as a friend was Newt, and it made no sense for this to be from him. He briefly glanced behind him to the door across from him, but shook his head. That was just silly. Why would his neighbor leave him a bottle of wine after he had scolded him? No. It was likely it had been left in front of the wrong door. But seeing as he had no clue to whom it belonged, he might as well enjoy it. So, with that thought he pushed open his door and retreated to the dark and cozy interior, where he sat alone and enjoyed his dinner and wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a short chapter, but seeing as it's my second update today, I think that's alright. As always, I enjoy reading what you think! So leave a comment if you are enjoying it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley thinks up a new plan to talk to Aziraphale.

“You. Fucking. Idiot.”

Crowley was sitting at his kitchen table and forcefully banging his head against the smooth wood. He had, once again, messed up. After Anathema had helped finish cleaning up and left, he had devised a plan. A rather smooth plan, if he did say so himself. It had been around three pm by that point, so he knew he had roughly two hours to accomplish it. He had gotten in the Bentley and drove down to the nearest fine winery.

He had no idea what Aziraphale liked, or even if he drank for that matter, but it would still be a good way to ease himself into being able to talk to him. So he had purchased an expensive bottle and driven back to his flat. It was only four by that point, so he had taken to pacing across his living room.

At four-thirty, he had sat down and wrote out a note.

_Hey,_

_Sorry about last night. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and I was being an ass._

_Not sure if you drink, but if you do, I think you will enjoy this._

_Again, sorry for last night. I would love to make it up to you._

_Shoot me a text whenever you feel like it._

_020 7946 0666_

_Crowley_

He had been sitting on his bed an hour later, bouncing his leg and trying to distract himself on his phone, when he heard the familiar humming below his window. He had leapt up and peered down at Aziraphale. He was carrying a bag of what looked like takeout and smiling as he walked. Crowley couldn’t help his own smile from spreading across his face. He looked like and Angel, with the sunlight bouncing off his white gold curls. Completely beautiful. But then Aziraphale had stopped and looked around, a puzzled look on his face. Crowley had crouched down below the window, heart pounding out of his chest. Had he sensed him looking? When he had peeked again, Aziraphale was making his way into the building.

Crowley let out a breath, and then gasped. He had forgotten to put the wine in front on his door! He leapt up and ran to the kitchen counter where the wine sat. He flung open his door and stepped across the hall, setting the bottle down just as he heard Aziraphale’s steps. He raced back inside and closed the door quietly behind him. He breathed slowly and deeply, forcing his heart to stop racing. But then he opened his eyes and his heart dropped. The note. He had forgotten to attach the note. It was currently laying on his kitchen table, mocking him. He spun back around and peered through the peephole. Aziraphale stood in the hall, turning the bottle in his hand, and looking confused. After a moment he took the bottle inside and shut the door.

And that brought Crowley to where he was now. How could he have forgotten the note? The whole plan revolved around the note! Now, Aziraphale had no idea it was from him. He probably thought one of his other friends had dropped it off for him.

Well so much for that plan. He couldn’t exactly do it again. He would only look like weirdo who kept trying to push alcohol on his neighbor. He remained sitting with his head on the kitchen table for several minutes, before finally letting out a sigh and sitting up. He had to think of something else. He grabbed his phone off the table and pulled up Anathema’s number.

_C: Help._

A minute passed, but then a new message lit up his phone.

_A: Did the plan not work out?_

_C: NO! I messed it up again! I’m about ready to give up._

_A: No, you aren’t. You never give up on something when it’s vexing you._

Crowley leaned back in his chair and groaned. She was right, of course. If he didn’t fix this, it would bother him for the rest of his life. Even if Aziraphale didn’t want to be friends, he wanted him to know he wasn’t a creep.

_C: What am I supposed to do?_

_A: Get creative. I’m a bit busy right now, but I’ll text you later. I expect results and a cohesive plan._

Crowley dropped his phone back onto the table and closed his eyes. A plan. He needed one. How could he find a way to easily talk to him without making it seem weird? Like he wasn’t standing at his door watching for when he would come home. He opened his eyes as an idea formed. What if ran into him out in the real world? Just a casual run in. Perhaps if he knew where he worked…

That was it. Crowley could figure out where he worked, and then just casually stroll in to buy something. He would pretend like he had no clue Aziraphale had worked there, and from there he could strike up a conversation and apologize. There were only two problems with that plan.

The first was that it would only work if he worked in a shop. He couldn’t very well stroll into an office building and strike up conversation. Though, for some reason, Crowley got the distinct impression that he didn’t work in an office. Even though he wore a suit, it wasn’t one that screamed tax broker.

The second problem was that he had no idea where he worked. It had to be close, as he walked there every day, sometimes carrying heavy bags or books back. And so, Crowley came to the ridiculous conclusion that he would wake up early and follow him to work.

So that night, for the first time since high school, Crowley set an alarm for five am. He wasn’t actually sure what time Aziraphale left, but he would rather be safe than sorry.

The next morning Crowley awoke with a groan as his alarm blared next to his ear. He shut it off and rolled over. A part of him was screaming to just forget it. Go back to sleep and think of something else. But a larger part of him said that he had already messed up twice before, and he couldn’t again. So, with bleary eyes he dragged himself from bed and got dressed. He pulled on his black skinny jeans, a dark red button up shirt, and of course his glasses. He dragged a brush through his red hair and then leaned over his bathroom sink, trying desperately to not fall asleep while standing. He didn’t need a concussion. He slid on his socks and black boots, and then waited.

He sat at his kitchen table, a cup of black coffee in his hand, and listened. It wasn’t until six thirty that he heard the door across the hall open. He leapt up, nearly spilling coffee down his front and rushed to the door. Sure enough, he could see Aziraphale’s back as he locked up. He couldn’t leave at the same time as him, as he didn’t want to be seen, but he couldn’t wait too long either. He waited a minute after he had left and then reached for the doorknob. He stopped, and last second decided to grab his black hoody that hung on the rack. He didn’t want Aziraphale to turn around at some point and recognize him. It was still early, and the sun was just beginning to lighten the skyline, so he wouldn’t look to out of place.

He ran out of his flat and down the stairs, stumbling onto the street. He wasn’t used to being up this early or seeing the street so empty. There were people, for sure, but not like there were at midday. People had begun to open the shops that lined the street while others made their daily commute to their jobs. Crowley looked down the street and was relieved that he could still see Aziraphale. He walked quickly, making sure to keep him in his eyesight while never getting too close. Every time Aziraphale would turn his head, Crowley would tense up, afraid he was about to be caught. Luckily, he never turned around, and they didn’t have to go far. After about ten minutes of walking, Aziraphale crossed the street and made his way up to a shop. 

Crowley stopped where he was and looked up at the building. A. Z. Fell & Co. A bookshop. He worked at a bookshop. Now that he thought of it, of course he did. And not only did he work at one, if the name was any indication, he owned the bookshop. Crowley let out a breath. Once again, he was an idiot. He likely could have simply Googled Aziraphale’s name, and this would have come up. He didn’t even need to go Cloak and Dagger. He ran a hand over his face. Oh well, it didn’t matter now. Now he knew, and now he had proper plan. Today, he was going to properly introduce himself to his angelic neighbor. And with any luck, his neighbor would in fact want to be his friend. And he would _finally_ be able to put him out of his mind and move on with his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. This is my third update in one day. Your lovely comments have encouraged me to write more and keep giving you new chapters. I hope you like it. And don't worry, they'll finally be meeting properly next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finally gets the nerve to go into the bookshop.

Aziraphale ran his hand over the new books he had acquired. Every time he got a new order of books it felt like Christmas, and he loved Christmas. He smiled and hummed as he moved through the shelves, finding each book its proper place. The sound of bells jingling alerted him that a customer had come in, and he sighed. He knew he had to sell books, but he hated to do it. He wished he could collect and keep every single one of them. He began to walk around the shelves, when he heard Newt speak.

“Um, hello, is there anything I can help you find?”

Aziraphale frowned. Newt didn’t normally offer to help a customer unless prompted. And was it just him, or did Newt sound nervous?

“Oh, er, no I’m just browsing thanks.”

Aziraphale stopped. That voice sounded so familiar. Where had he heard it before? That was when it hit him. His neighbor. That was definitely the voice of his hansom red haired neighbor. He peered around the corner.

Crowley was walking slowly past the shelves, his long fingers tracing along the spines of the books. Normally, Aziraphale hated when customers touched the books before purchasing them, but currently his mind wasn’t on that. Instead, his mind was fully focused on the way he looked. When he had first met him, he hadn’t really taken in what he was wearing or what his body looked like. The flashing lights, loud music, and charming smile had been too distracting. But now, now he was able to take him all in. He was tall and slim, and he moved in a way that could only be described as sauntering. The tight black jeans he wore left nothing to the imagination and the leather jacket over a burgundy shirt was positively sinful. The sides of his red hair had been pulled back into a bun, and he still wore those dark glasses. Finally, Aziraphale’s eyes landed on his hands. Those long, slim fingers traced delicately over the books in a similar fashion as they had over his wrist. He was the most stunning man Aziraphale had ever laid eyes on.

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes tightly shut and shook his head.

_Stop that! Stop those thoughts. You can’t have him, so stop being so ridiculous! He’s just your neighbor! You can’t go dropping your jaw every time you see him._

He opened his eyes and looked back to Crowley. He was looking around, but he didn’t seem to be looking for anything in particular. Did he know that he worked here? Aziraphale frowned again. Of course, he didn’t, why would he? He sighed at his own hubris. Customers came in here all the time. He looked past him to Newt, who was also staring at him with his mouth slightly open and a dumbstruck look on his face. Crowley’s back was to Aziraphale, so he waved his arm to get Newts attention. It took a few moments for Newt to noticed him, but finally he did.

Aziraphale pointed to Crowley and mouthed “That’s him!”

Newt frowned and shook his head. “What?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and pointed again. “That’s him! That’s my neighbor. The one with the party!”

Newt looked back and forth between Aziraphale and Crowley, his mouth slightly open. It seemed like he was getting it, but the he loudly whispered “What?”

Crowley looked up at that, because he was much closer to him than Aziraphale was. Aziraphale ducked back behind the shelves.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Crowley asked.

“Oh, um, no. Sorry, I was just talking to myself.”

Aziraphale’s pressed a hand over his eyes. He was being absolutely ridiculous. He needed to just go out there and talk to him. He took a deep breath.

#

Crowley moved his eyes along the rows of books. He hadn’t read in years and didn’t know what he was looking for. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. He was looking for a particular blonde book seller. But so far, he wasn’t having much luck in that regard. He was fully aware that the man at the register was staring at him and couldn’t help but feel awkward. Did he think he was going to steal something?

Part of him wanted to just go up and ask to speak to Aziraphale, but the other part of his brain mentally slapped the other. That would be crazy, because then Aziraphale would be fully aware that he had followed him, or at the very least looked him up. And that would really not be good. He was trying to make it clear that he _wasn’t_ a creep. And so… and so… Oh God. He was being a creep. He had _followed_ his neighbor to his place of employment and was now walking around trying to run into him. He felt his mind screech to a halt. This was a bad plan. Anathema was going to slap him. Or laugh at him. He had to leave before it was too late. Before he could move, a hissed whisper came from the man at the register.

“What?”

Crowley looked up at him. He was squinting into the distance, his mouth partially open.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

The man blinked and looked at him, his eyes going wide. “Oh, um, no. Sorry, I was just talking to myself.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. What a strange bloke. “Uh, right. Well I don’t see what I was looking for, so I’ll just go.”

He turned to leave, but a voice stopped him.

“Can I help you find anything?”

Crowley froze, his whole body going rigid. Well, it was too late turn back now. He carefully shaped his features into a lazy smile and turned to the voice. Aziraphale stood a few feet away, his hand gently clasped in front of him and a small polite smile on his face. There didn’t appear to be any sign of recognition.

“Oh, yeah, I was just looking for a book on… plants.”

Aziraphale blinked and then nodded. “Well, I have several books that you might find helpful. Right this way.”

He turned and disappeared behind some shelves. Crowley’s smile slipped slightly. Did he truly not recognize him? He followed slowly after him. Aziraphale walked to a shelf near the back.

“You’ll find several books on botany here. Was there something specific you needed?”

Crowley stared at the row of books that Aziraphale was indicating. In truth, he already knew a great deal about plants and gardening, and if he needed to know anything more, he had the internet. But he couldn’t turn back now. “Um, I’m just looking for something with specific instructions on replanting.”

Aziraphale nodded and the selected one of the books. “I think this one will be the most helpful to you.”

Crowley took the book gently from his hands and stared at the cover. “Have you read it?”

Aziraphale straightened up. “Oh, I’ve read almost every book in here. I’ve at least skimmed them all. I need to know what I’m selling my customers and how best to help them.”

Crowley let out an incredulous laugh. “That’s insane. There must be thousands of books in here!”

Aziraphale lifted his head. “Yes, well, I like to read.”

Crowley continued to smile at him. Well, it was now or never. “Do I know you?”

Aziraphale stared at him and tilted his head. It was adorable. “Hmm, yes, I though you looked familiar. I simply couldn’t put my finger on it.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes, as though he was thinking it over. As though he hadn’t been acting like a crazy person trying to talk to him for the past few weeks. “Wait, do you live across from me?”

A slight blush rose to the angelic mans cheeks. “Oh, that’s right. You were the one throwing the party the other night.”

Crowley leaned against the bookshelf, doing his best to emit “I’m cool” vibes. He was actually emitting “I’m desperately trying to be cool” vibes, but luckily Aziraphale couldn’t tell the difference. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I don’t remember much from that night, but I do think I was being an ass to you. I can’t remember what was said, but I do remember you shouting at me to turn down the music.”

Aziraphale turned even more pink. “Yes, well, more was said, but that is the general direction of the conversation. I must also apologize for being rude.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “ _You_ are apologizing to _me?_ Don’t be ridiculous. You were right, I should have been more considerate about how loud I was being. But don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

Crowley expected him to look relieved, but instead a small line of worry formed between his eyebrows. “Well, don’t think it has to stop completely. I’m not a complete kill joy. But it would be appreciated if you could keep the truly wild parties to Friday and Saturday nights.”

Crowley smiled wider. He was even more adorable when he was worried. He mentally shook his head. He wasn’t here to think about how cute he was. He was here to clear the air between them so that they could continue to be normal neighbors. Or, at least Crowley could go back to being normal and not act like an obsess teenage girl.

“Of course, I’ll keep that in mind. Actually, tomorrow night I was planning on having a small get together at my place. Nothing like the one from the other night. Just a few friends over for games and a bit of drinking.”

Crowley had in fact not been planning on having a get together tomorrow night, up until that very moment. He silently cursed himself. He was going to have to throw something together. Aziraphale only stared at him, as though waiting for him to say something more. When he didn’t, he cleared his throat.

“Right, well I’m sure that will be fun for you. I’ll try my best to not disturb you.”

Crowley wanted to close his eyes and fling himself from a cliff. He had forgotten the part where he invited Aziraphale.

“Oh, well, I was actually thinking you could come. It might be useful for me to get to know my neighbor. Plus, it’ll be fun.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, well, yes, perhaps. I will have to check my schedule, but I might be able to make that work. At what time would I need to arrive.”

Crowley considered that it would be a Sunday, so Aziraphale would need to leave early in order to get to bed for work the next morning. “Everyone else will be getting there around six thirty. It’ll be over by nine.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips and nodded, as though considering his offer. The nerves in Crowley’s stomach were twisting like a snake. “You could bring someone, if you want.”

At this, Aziraphale’s face lit up. “Oh, I could invite Newton!”

Crowley blinked, forcing his smile to stay in place. Newton? Who was Newton? Had he been wrong? Was his neighbor perhaps not single? That’s alright, he told himself. That’s completely fine. You’re just here to make a friend. It doesn’t matter how cute he looks. Nope, not one bit.

“Yeah, sure. You can meet some of my friends. And Anathema.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “Anathema?”

“Yeah, you may have seen her hanging around my place these last few weeks. Long dark hair, weird dresses, round glasses?”

Aziraphale’s smile tightened, as though he was forcing himself to be polite. “No, I can’t say I have. I’ve hardly even seen you.”

Crowley rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah, I guess we just have conflicting schedules.”

Aziraphale looked down. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

Crowley let out a sigh. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, I think so. I’m sure I can fit it in.”

“Yeah, ok, great. And um, I look forward to meeting Newt.”

Aziraphale looked a bit confused but nodded. “Yes, and I Anathema.”

“Cool. Right, so I’ll just go pay for this.” He waved the book in front of him.

“Oh, no, that’s fine. We’ll call it a loaner. You can just read the part you need and then give it back.”

“No, I can’t-“

“I insist.” He said it forcefully, but full of kindness. “Just a favor between friends.”

Crowley smiled at that. “Right. Friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys are just so dumb. Once again, thank you for all of your lovely comments. They're really making it easier for me to pump out daily chapters. Let me know what you think of their first official meeting!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale goes to Crowley's party and discovers that he rather likes drinking games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is 3x longer than the others. That's why it took a full day to write. But I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you guys like it!

“You… stalked him?”

Crowley groaned and threw himself back on the couch. He knew he shouldn’t have told Anathema. “Don’t call it that! You’re the one who said I needed to come up with a plan!”

“Yeah!” she cried, throwing her hands in the air. “I meant, I don’t know, pretending like you were leaving as he was coming home. Something simple. Not batshit crazy!”

Crowley felt the heat rising to his face. He wanted to argue, but he knew she was right. He had gone too far. “Well, it worked didn’t it? He’s coming over tonight.”

She shook her head. “Yeah, but you went about it in the most ridiculous way possible! You really are the biggest drama queen I’ve ever met.”

“I texted you asking for help, but you said you were busy. Now you know the consequences of leaving me unattended.”

Anathema crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying that I have to choose between having a life or babysitting you to make sure you don’t go to jail?”

“Now who’s being dramatic? Nobodies going to jail. It’s fine, everything’s fine. It worked out and he’s coming over tonight. But,” he frowned, “I think he’s bringing another guy.”

“What?” Anathema cried, sitting forward. “Another guy? He isn’t even single?”

“I told you I didn’t know! I mean, it’s not for sure, but he sounded excited to bring him.”

“So, you’re telling me you went through all that, and you’re not even planning on getting lucky?”

“Hey, it wasn’t about that. I just wanted to make friends.”

Anathema tilted her head in a way that expressed that she didn’t believe him at all. “Crowley, I’m your only real friend. And the only reason I’m still here is because I won’t let you get rid of me. I know you, and I know that you wouldn’t go to those lengths if you only wanted to make friends. And don’t say it was because you wanted to be neighborly!” she shouted quickly before he could say anything. “You once told your last neighbor to fuck off because they said gardening was lame.”

“Because who just says that? Gardening isn’t lame! He was a douche and he had it coming. Ugh, I hated Paul.” He sunk further into the couch.

“My _point_ is _,_ ” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “that you don’t care about making friends or good impressions. You feel something for this guy.”

“I don’t even know this guy! I’ve spoken to him twice. Maybe after tonight I’ll realize he’s a complete prat just like everyone else and I’ll never want to talk to him again. Or his boyfriend will tell me to fuck off and I’ll do just that. I’m not going to go after a guy that’s taken.”

Anathema sighed. “Crowley, I want you to be happy. You deserve it, and I’m glad you’ve finally found someone that makes you feel something. Don’t give up so easily.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his sunglasses. “Are you suggesting I still pursue him, even if he’s taken?”

“What I’m saying is, don’t give up at the first sign of trouble. You’re nearing thirty and your only friend is a twenty-two-year-old. You need someone who you can relate to and be close to. Someone who can be there for you all the time. Someone to share this life with and find joy together. Even if it’s not him, you need to stop pushing people away.”

Crowley closed his eyes. “Well, if how I’ve been acting is any indication, I don’t think we have to worry about that. I think we can both agree that what I’ve been doing is the opposite of that.”

“Exactly!” she reached out and took his hand. “What you’re feeling, that doesn’t come around too often. When it does, you should hold onto it and see where it goes.”

He opened his eyes and rolled them. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You did invite people for tonight like I asked, right?”

Anathema released his hand and stood. “Of course I did, though it was pretty last minute. I invited Bee and Maggie, you remember them, right? Maggie was in my spin class and Bee did some work with me at the shop?”

“Oh, right, sure.” He didn’t, really.

“And then Jordan from the market beside my shop and Gabe from when I was in college.”

“You only invited four people?”

“Well I don’t know many people who can just drop everything to go to a game night on a Sunday. I don’t even know if they’ll all be able to come.”

Crowley groaned. “Great, with my luck it’ll just be us, Aziraphale, and his boyfriend!”

“You said you didn’t know if it was his boyfriend!”

“I don’t! But still, I told him I was having a party. If he gets here and sees that it’s just us, he’ll know I made it up.”

“You worry too much. If it’s not his boyfriend, I’ll distract him so you can move in.”

“Oh no, there will be no moving in tonight! I just want to get to know him a bit first.”

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, seeing as the party starts in a few hours, you better start getting ready now. I’ll run to the market to grab some cheese and crackers and then back to my flat to get the games. I’ll be back by six, and I expect you to be wearing your most seductive outfit and your hair to be clean and washed. Got it?”

“Yes _mum,_ ” he grumbled.

#

Aziraphale paced back and forth in his flat. The clock read six twenty-five, and as the seconds ticked on, his apprehension grew. Newt sat on his couch, a green sweater swallowing most of his body, with his hand folded between his legs and watching Aziraphale as he paced.

“Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe we shouldn’t go. I can just go over and inform him that something came up.”

Newt frowned. “But nothing has come up.”

“Yes, Newt, I’m quite aware of that!” he snapped, more on edge than normal. “I would only tell him that.”

“Why? Do you not want to go?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect!”

Newt blinked. “I mean, you wake up every day not knowing what to expect. But you still get up and go about your day.”

Aziraphale stopped and looked at him. Sometimes Newt really shocked him with how insightful he could be. He sighed. “Yes, you’re right. I’m just nervous.”

“About what?”

“Well what if he doesn’t like me? Or his friends don’t? What if this only makes things worse?”

Newt twisted his fingers. “I’m nervous too. I’ve never met them either. But people _do_ like you. People come into the shop and they get excited to see you, to hear what you have to say. College kids bring you pastries because you let them study in your shop and scholars come to discuss with you. _I’m_ the one people don’t like. I make people uncomfortable and I break things. I know what they say about me behind my back. But you asked me to come, and I’m here. So, if you don’t want to go over there, that’s fine. We can just… hangout here. We can watch,” he looked around the room, realizing there was no tv in the room, “Er, we can read. Or whatever. But I think we should go over. It’ll be good for us. Did I ever tell you I almost vomited before I came in to interview with you?”

Aziraphale was smiling now and shook his head.

“Well, I did. But I’m glad I went. Otherwise, I never would have met you and I wouldn’t have a job.”

Aziraphale sat beside him on the couch and patted his leg. “I’m glad as well. And you’re right. I’m being ridiculous. I’m sure we’ll walk away from this, if not with more friends, than with the knowledge that we did our best.”

Newt smiled and nodded. Aziraphale looked to the clock. It now read six thirty-three. “Well, it’s that time. Let’s go.”

He stood and pulled Newt up with him by the elbow. They walked to the door and Newt offered his arm. “For support?”

Aziraphale beamed and took it. They made their way across that hall and Aziraphale took a deep breath, then knocked. He thought he heard shuffling from inside, then the door opened. Crowley stood in the doorway, one hand on the handle and the other on the doorframe. He wore a black shirt that had the top few buttons undone and matching black skinny jeans. And of course, those glasses. He smiled as soon as his eyes landed on Aziraphale. But then his eyes slid to his hand that was linked with Newt’s arm and he thought he saw his smile slip a bit. But he quickly moved his eyes back to Aziraphale.

“Aziraphale! Glad you could make it!”

“Yes, so am I!” Aziraphale said, slightly breathless.

Crowley turned to Newt, almost grudgingly. “And you must be Newt?”

Newt’s smile faltered. “Um, yes. We’ve met actually.”

Crowley frowned. “Have we? When?”

Newt glanced down at Aziraphale, who gave him a reassuring smile. “Um, at the bookshop? I was at the register.”

Recognition flickered across his face. “Oh! Right, sorry about that. I was a bit preoccupied at that time with… um, with looking for a book.”

Newt nodded. “That’s alright. It happens a lot.”

Crowley looked between the two of them for a moment, and the stepped back. “Oh, what am I thinking? Come in!”

Aziraphale walked past him, his arm brushing against his stomach as he did. He forced himself to suppress a shiver. The flat looked very similar to his, layout wise, but was very different in décor. Where Aziraphale had mostly older, comfortable furniture, Crowley’s flat was decked out with sleek and elegant pieces.

“You have a lovely home.”

Crowley gave him a lopsided smirk. “Ah, thanks. Anathema helped pick most of it out. I’m terrible with design.”

“That’s not true,” said a voice behind him.

Aziraphale turned to see a young woman with a tray in her hands. Though women weren’t his type, he could safely say she was extremely beautiful. She must be Crowley’s girlfriend. He tried his best to not look crestfallen. He felt Newt begin to shake beside him. He gripped his arm more tightly. He sometimes got like this when girls came into the shop and talked to him. It would be no good for him to fall apart now at the sight of Crowley’s girlfriend.

“Oh, you must be Anathema!” He releases Newt and stepped forward to shake her hand. She smiled and set the tray down, then rather than take his hand, embraced him warmly.

“Oh!” Aziraphale smiled and leaned into the hug. She smelled of herbs and spices. It was lovely.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she beamed. “Crowley told me all about you.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows and turned to Crowley, who looked like he was giving her the death glare, but as soon as his eyes were on him his face eased back into a smile. “Oh really? Well how kind of him! This is Newt.”

Newt stumbled forward and held out his hand, visibly swallowing. Anathema ran her eyes from the top of his head to the bottom his feet. Then she smiled, as though satisfied with something, and took his hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you as well Newt. Don’t let Crowley fool you, though. He says that I picked it out, but what he means is that he forced me to go with him because he didn’t want to go alone. This is all him.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Well either way, you both have a lovely home.”

Anathema frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but a knock at the door interrupted her. Crowley opened the door and a short woman with a pixie cut walked in. She wore an oversized jacket and combat boots with fishnet socks and looked like she didn’t really want to be here.

“Bee!” Anathema exclaimed, rushing forward to greet the woman.

Anathema hugged her warmly, while Bee stood with her whole body rigid. “Hey Anathema. Am I early?”

“What? Oh no. You’re perfectly on time!”

Bee glanced around the room at the other three people. Crowley wasn’t paying any attention to the new guest and was instead looking Newt up and down. Aziraphale swallowed his desire to fade into the background and stepped forward. “Hello! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Crowley’s neighbor.”

He shook her hand, though she looked very reluctant about it. “Right. It’s just, I guess I’ve never been here while all the lights were on. I thought you said this was a party?”

“Oh, well, sort of,” Anathema said as she led Bee over to the table with the tray of cheese and crackers. “Crowley wanted to have something small and intimate. A game night with friends.”

Bee raised an eyebrow. “So, is this it?”

Anathema pressed her lips together. “Well I invited Maggie and Jordan, but they couldn’t come. But I believe-“

She was once again interrupted by a knock. Rather than answer it, Crowley shouted “Come in!”

The door opened and a man walked in. The man was tall, with short dark hair and eyes that looked almost lilac. He was built like a rugby player and wore a long overcoat.

“Gabe! I was just saying we were expecting you,” Anathema said as she walked towards him.

“Anathema!” he cried, sounding almost too excited. He embraced her shoulders in his wide hands. “It’s wonderful to see you again. It’s been too long.”

“It has,” she agreed.

He looked around and spotted Crowley. “Crowley, old boy! How have you been?” He slapped Crowley hard on the shoulder, and Crowley gave him a look like he wanted to break that hand.

“I _was_ fine,” he mumbled, and Aziraphale had to hide his smirk behind his hand. He looked up and saw that Crowley was looking at him, his own smile back on.

“Ok, everyone sit down!” Anathema said, pressing her hand to Aziraphale Newts backs and guiding them into seats at the kitchen table. “I made pitchers of margaritas and sangria, so I’ll set those out and we can all drink as we like.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale frowned, “I wasn’t going to drink. I do need to work tomorrow.”

“Nonsense!” Anathema cried. “A few drinks won’t hurt you. Besides, we can’t play drinking games without drinking.”

Aziraphale flushed. He realized that he should have assumed they were going to play drinking games, but he had instead been picturing board games.

“Anathema, leave him be. He doesn’t have to drink if he doesn’t want to,” Crowley said as he dropped into the chair beside him.

Aziraphale flushed and smiled. “No, she’s right. I want to have a good time, so I’ll play by the rules.”

Crowley was now closer to Aziraphale that he had ever been. His chair was only a few inches away and his face only about two feet. So, when Crowley gave him that slow smile again, Aziraphale had to force himself to look away. He couldn’t gawk at a man when his girlfriend was right there.

They began to play some of the games that Anathema took out, and Aziraphale settled in with his cup of Sangria. He and Crowley sat on one side of the table, with Bee and Gabe across from them, and Newt and Anathema at the heads of the table.

They first played an interesting game that Aziraphale had never heard of, but Crowley seemed very good at. It involved a large cup in the middle, and many confusing rules, but Aziraphale caught on fairly quickly. By the end of it, Crowley had picked the last King card, and was forced to drink the large cup filled with the margarita sangria mixture. He downed it in one go and grimaced. Aziraphale laughed and finished his second cup. They played a few more card games, and once Aziraphale had finished his third cup and was feeling quite warm and happy, Anathema pulled a box out from under the table.

“Alright everyone, time for tipsy truth or dare!”

Perhaps if they hadn’t all had several drinks by that time and weren’t all feeling a bit brave, someone would have suggested they shelf that for another time. But as it stood, everyone was quite tipsy, so instead Gabe banging his hand on the table.

“Yes! Give me any dare and I’ll do it!”

Bee smacked his hand away from her side of the table. “Yeah? Well I’ll beat any dare you do! You think you’re so much better cuzz you’re zzome tough macho guy.”

Bee had begun to slur her s’s. Gabe glared at her. “You can’t beat me! Look at you, you’re tiny!”

Bee leapt to her feet, looking like she was read to knock him out, but Anathema placed her hand on her shoulder and guided her back to her seat.

“Calm down, it’s just a game between friends. It’s not a competition.”

Bee and Gabe looked like they very much disagreed.

“I’ll go first.” Anathema said with a smile. She flicked the wheel, which had a pointer and was cut into black and yellow pieces. The hand landed on yellow, so she selected one of the yellow Truth cards.

She giggled. “Would you go back home with someone you just met at a party? Hmm, I suppose so, if I liked them. Why not?”

She tossed the card onto the table. Oh, so it was that sort of truth or dare. Aziraphale swallowed heavily. If he was less tipsy, he might have gotten up from the table and made an excuse. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to be a mood killer. The turn passed to Bee. She flicked the wheel and it landed on Truth again.

“What is the first thing you would do if you were invisible? That’s easy. I’d rob a bank.”

Aziraphale blinked at her. That answer came a bit too easily to her. Gabe spun next and got dare.

“Take off your shirt and do ten pushups. Hell yeah!”

He pulled off his coat and then slid his grey knit top off. He was well built, and Aziraphale averted his eyes. He turned and met eyes with Crowley. This was shocking for him, because he hadn’t realized Crowley had taken off his sunglasses. He knew he shouldn’t stare, but that was suddenly impossible. Crowley’s eyes were the color of warm honey. He sucked in a breath, and only looked away when Gabe finished doing the pushups and let out a holler. He didn’t notice that Crowley continued to stare at him.

“Woo! Yeah, I’d like to see anyone beat that!”

“Shut up and sit-down you idiot,” Bee snapped. “Newt, you go before the testosterone makes him pop a blood vessel.”

Newt stared at the wheel like he would rather drink acid that play. But, not one to say no, Newt leaned forward and gave it a flick. Dare. His hand shook as he lifted the card. He read it, and as he did, his eyes widened to twice their normal size. Rather than read it out loud, he showed it to Aziraphale. Aziraphale read it.

“Kiss the person directly across from you.”

Everyone looked to Anathema, who looked a bit shocked. Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, wondering how he felt about his girlfriend kissing someone else. But Crowley was only smiling. After her shock wore off, Anathema smiled too.

“Well come here then. We must play by the rules.” Rather than walk around the table, she climbed right up on top of it and crawled across it to Newt. Newt, meanwhile, looked like he was about to pass out. Anathema leaned over him and waited. Aziraphale gave Newt a kick under the table. Newt seemed to come out of it and leaned forward. Anathema pressed a quick kiss to his mouth and then pulled away with a giggle. She crawled back to her seat.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Newt shook his head, but still didn’t seem to be able to speak.

Crowley nudged Aziraphale’s arm. “Your turn.”

Aziraphale swallowed. Now that it had finally gotten to him, he was feeling much less confident. But if Newt had been able to do it, he could as well. He flicked the wheel. Truth. He picked up a card slowly.

“What turns you on in the way a person dresses?” Oh, that wasn’t so bad. “Hmm, I suppose I like when someone is well put together. Like there has been some thought put into it. Button up shirts, well fitting jeans, boots, s-“ he stopped. He had been about to say sunglasses. “Stuff like that.”

He glanced at Crowley and found that he was still staring at him. Without being prompted, Crowley reached out and flicked the wheel. Dare. He picked up a black card.

He stared at the card, and Aziraphale saw that his cheeks had gone a bit pink.

“What does it say?” Anathema asked. Before he could answer, she pulled the card from his hand and raised her eyebrows. “Remove an article of clothing from the player on your right with your teeth.”

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open. He was the player on the right. Crowley glanced at him.

“Er, if you don’t mind?”

“Hey, I had to kiss someone. You can do this.” Anathema gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Aziraphale was sure he was as red a tomato, but when Crowley looked at him again, he nodded. It was only fair. Crowley turned himself so he was facing Aziraphale and he did the same. Crowley looked him over, as though trying to decide what would be best. Aziraphale clenched his fists as his hansom neighbor, who he barely knew, leaned towards him. He held his breath as Crowley hooked his teeth onto his bowtie. He felt his breath against his bare neck and couldn’t suppress a shudder. Crowley tugged at the fabric, pulling it loose, and as he did, his nose brushed against his skin. Aziraphale had to close his eyes to stop from making a sound. Finally, the bowtie came loose, and Crowley sat back with it hanging from his mouth. Aziraphale stared him. It wasn’t until Gabe let out a whistle that he looked away.

“Look, I’m not into guys, but that was hot.”

Aziraphale turned his body away from Crowley and downed the rest of his cup, which had been half full. He didn’t look back at Crowley for several turns, until he was up again. He silently prayed to not get Dare. He let out a sigh when it landed on Truth. He selected his card and regretted it immediately.

“Well, this question is quite personal.”

Everyone stared at him expectantly, so he sighed. “Who was the first person you ever slept with?” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, um, his name was Steven.”

Aziraphale assumed everyone there knew he was gay, but he always felt uncomfortable saying it to a group for the first time. You never knew how someone was going to react. The table was only silent for a moment before Gabe spoke.

“ _Damn_ Steven, get it!”

Aziraphale blinked, and then broke out into a fit of laughter. He was sure the alcohol had something to do with it, but he had never heard anything so funny in his life. Everyone else joined in on the laughter. After that, things became much more comfortable.

About an hour later, Aziraphale was washing his hands in the bathroom. He glanced up at his reflection and smiled. Tonight had been a success. There had been much laughter and joy shared between the group. If this was what parties were like, he would like to come to more. Maybe Crowley would invite him to another. He seemed to still like him. He swayed slightly as he opened the bathroom door and stepped out, only to run into someone. He looked up and saw Crowley looking down at him.

“Oh, sorry about that, didn’t know you were waiting.”

Crowley smiled, looking a bit sleepy. “It’s fine. I was really just trying to get away from Anathema. She’s boring poor Newt on a speech about the benefits of natural healing.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Oh, I’m sure Newt is perfectly happy.”

“Mmm, not as happy as Bee and Gabe, I think. They both just ran out the door together. Not sure what to make of that.”

“Yes, there did seem to be some tension between them. Lovely people.”

“Is _that_ what you’d call them?”

Aziraphale smacked his arm playfully. “Oh stop. They were perfectly fine.”

Crowley’s grin widened. A silence stretched between them, and Aziraphale found himself looking up into those honey eyes. He really was exquisitely beautiful. But even if he was drunk, he would never say that. Crowley swayed towards him slightly but braced his hand against the wall and cleared his throat.

“You should probably get back out there and save your boyfriend.”

Aziraphale stared at him in bewilderment. “Boyfriend? Who do you mean?”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Oh, well, I thought-“

“Newt?” Aziraphale practically cried. “Newt isn’t my boyfriend! He’s my… employee! And friend. Just friend.”

“Oh,” Crowley breathed. “Oh. I just thought, you came in holding his arm…”

“Well, yes, but that was just for support. The poor boy is quite shy.”

Crowley seemed to be deep in thought as he processed his words. “I see.”

Aziraphale frowned, a thought crossing his mind. “Is Anathema your girlfriend?”

At this, Crowley actually broke out into laughter. “Anathema? No way! She’s just my friend as well.”

Despite himself, Aziraphale felt himself growing happier. No girlfriend? But he shook his head. That didn’t mean Crowley was gay, or that he had any interest in him. But still, he smiled.

“I suppose we both made rash assumptions.”

Crowley nodded. “That we did.” He fell silent again, staring at the floor, and then looked up. “Do you want to get lunch with me? Tomorrow?”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Well, I usually take my lunch into work with me.”

Crowley’s face fell slightly, so Aziraphale rushed on. “But I suppose I can go out for lunch tomorrow. I’m sure Newt will be fine to run the shop for an hour.”

Crowley smiled widely. “Great. Let’s say noon? I’ll pick you up.”

Aziraphale swallowed and nodded. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

For a moment they stared at each other, neither saying a word, but a crash from the other room broke them out of their reverie. Aziraphale rushed past Crowley to the living room. Anathema was in a fit of laughter while Newt stood over a broken vase.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t see it there! I’ll pay for it I swear!” Newt said in a rush.

Crowley waved his hand dismissively. “It was ten pounds at a flea market. Forget about it.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Well, I better be getting him home before he manages burn down your flat.”

“Right,” Crowley nodded. “It’s getting late anyways. Nearly ten.”

“What?” Aziraphale yelped. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. You said it was over at nine. We have overstayed our welcome.”

Crowley placed a hand on his shoulder and Aziraphale stilled. “Don’t worry about. I had a great time.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Yes, so did I.”

Anathema was still laughing as she stumbled to Crowley. “Crowley, the vase wasn’t my fault! It was all Newt! I swear!”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure it was. Come on, go lay in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

He took her by the shoulders and began to lead her to the room but glanced back at Aziraphale. “I’ll see tomorrow.” 

He beamed and nodded. “Yes, you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a beast to write. I'm normally one for shorter chapters, but I felt like this one needed to be this long. I hope you guys don't mind! Let me know what you think! The boys are finally getting closer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know it's been a little while. But I will be updating this fic more often because I still really like it. I hope you do as well!

“This is not a date. This is just a friendly lunch with your neighbor. Don’t think of it as a date.”

Crowley stood in front of his bathroom mirror. He had gotten up early today, at ten am, and put a great deal of effort into his appearance. He told himself that this was not because Aziraphale had said that he liked men who were put together, but because he wanted to. He wore his signature tight pants, a tight short sleeved red shirt, and black boots. He had decided to leave his hair down today but had put in the metal cuff piercings on his ears and wore several of his best rings on his fingers. He wondered if he looked too flashy, but then shrugged. Who cares? This was what he liked to look like. If Aziraphale didn’t like it, he didn’t deserve him. He closed his eyes.

“Stop that. This isn’t a date! It doesn’t matter what he thinks because he’s probably not into you. Why would you even by his type? He probably likes librarians and professor types.”

And he certainly wasn’t that. He gripped the sink and leaned closer to the mirror with narrowed eyes. “Stop being a fucking idiot. You never act like this. You are confident, and cool, and you don’t care what people think about you. _Especially_ not what your goody good neighbor thinks.”

He almost believed himself. He pushed himself off the sink and made his way to the living room. He glanced at his phone and saw that it was eleven fifty-five. He would be fashionably late, just like he had intended. He swiped his keys from the table and set out.

#

Aziraphale had been trying to keep himself busy all morning. He had already organized all the books at the front of the store, despite them already being in their proper place. He had also made three cups of tea, because he kept forgetting about them and letting them get cold. He now paced back and forth in front of the register while Newt watched.

“Are you ok? You seem tense.”

Aziraphale threw a glance at him. “Very perceptive of you dear boy.”

“What are you so worried about?”

“I’m not worried!” Aziraphale forced himself to stop walking. “It’s just, up until now, I’ve only been around him while others were nearby. We’ll be alone at lunch.”

“So?”

“ _So_ , what if I make a fool of myself?”

Last night this had seemed like a wonderful idea. But today, with the warmth of the alcohol no longer fueling him, everything seemed much more stressful.

Newt leaned forward on the counter. “How could you make a fool of yourself?”

“What if he catches me staring at him? Or I say something ridiculous? He’ll think I’m some poor lust filled fool.”

Newt frowned. “But, wasn’t _he_ the one who invited you out to lunch?”

“Yes, but as a friendly gesture.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, stop that Newt! I don’t even know if he likes men, let alone if he would like me.”

“You could always ask him.”

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open. “Are you out of your mind? I can’t do that! What if he’s straight? He’ll laugh at me, or worse, he’ll pity me. Oh, my poor lonely neighbor who’s just desperate enough to pine after his straight neighbor. No, I certainly don’t think I will do that.”

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Five past noon. “He’s late.”

Newt looked at the clock. “Only by five minutes.”

As though summoned, the bell over the door jingled. Aziraphale spun around to see Crowley walking into the shop. The sun that came through the door behind him lit his hair like it was fire. Aziraphale caught his breath. Crowley smiled when he saw him and sauntered over.

“Hey, Aziraphale. You ready?”

Aziraphale nodded and allowed his eyes to move down his form quickly. For the first time since he had met him, he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. This wouldn’t have been a problem if it weren’t for the fact the Crowley had full sleeves of tattoos running down his arms, all the way to his wrists. It wasn’t that Aziraphale didn’t like tattoos, but quite the opposite. The sight of them made him feel very warm. He swallowed and forced himself to speak.

“Yes, indeed. Where will we be going?”

Crowley shrugged one shoulder, as though saying he didn’t care. “There’s a sushi restaurant down the road. I’ve heard it’s pretty good.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale lit up and clapped his hands. “Yes, I assume you are talking about Pacific Sushi? I love that place.”

Crowley stared at him from behind his sunglasses, then smiled. “Great. Let’s go.”

Aziraphale turned to Newt. “I’ll only be gone an hour. Are you sure can hold down the shop until then?”

Newt rolled his eyes. “Of course I can. Go have fun.”

Aziraphale smiled and followed Crowley. Once out on the street, Crowley walked towards a sleek vintage car parked against the curb.

“Oh, is this your car?”

Crowley nodded. “Yep. This is her.”

Aziraphale moved to open the passenger door, but Crowley beat him to it. Aziraphale felt himself flush as he ducked his head and climbed into the car. Did friends normally open car doors for each other?

#

Crowley walked behind the car and then slid into the driver seat. He was silently cursing himself. He hadn’t even thought about it when he opened the door for him. It had been instinctual, something he always did on the rare occasion he went on a date. But as soon as he saw the surprise on Aziraphale’s face, he knew he had messed up. This wasn’t a date, and he needed to stop treating it like one.

He took off at breakneck speeds and heard Aziraphale gasp and grab at the ceiling.

“Oh my, you like to go fast don’t you?”

Crowley smirked. “You could say that. What, am I going too fast for you?”

Aziraphale grimaced. “Just a smidge.”

Crowley slowed slightly. They reached the restaurant only a few minutes later. The hostess sat them at a seat near the front window at Crowley’s request. They ordered their drinks and then fell into an awkward silence. Crowley drummed his fingers on the table, looking out the window at people passing by, then looked back to Aziraphale.

He was staring at Crowley’s fingers as they tapped on the table. Perhaps it annoyed him. Crowley stopped immediately. At the sudden stillness of his fingers, Aziraphale looked up at his face. Crowley smiled.

“So, do you not often leave Newt alone to run the shop?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Oh, no, not usually. He’s a lovely young man, but things have a tendency to break around him. And well, my shop is my life.” He chuckled. “That must sound very pathetic to you.”

Crowley leaned forward. “Not at all. Your shop is wonderful, a fantastic achievement. Most people aren’t so lucky.”

Aziraphale seemed surprised. “And you? What is your greatest achievement?”

Crowley swallowed and leaned back. He had walked right into that one. He gave him his most dashing smile. “I would have to say my winning personality.”

Aziraphale laughed and Crowley relaxed.

“I must say, personality seems to be one thing you aren’t short on. I apologize that I’m not quite as lively.”

Crowley frowned. “No, are you kidding? You were a blast at the party last night! Anathema agrees. You were a real hit.”

Aziraphale shifted in his seat, his ears tuning pink. “Oh, well, thank you. I thought your friends were lovely as well, especially Anathema.”

“She’ll be delighted to hear that.” He was never going to tell her of course. He didn’t need it going to her head. “I honestly can’t believe you thought she was my girlfriend.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Yes, well, you thought I was with Newt. And can you blame me? Someone as attractive as you would obviously be with someone as beautiful as her.”

As slow smile spread across Crowley’s face. “You think I’m attractive?”

Aziraphale’s entire face was now very pink. “I- well I- no, that’s not- I mean really, you’ve seen yourself! You don’t need me to tell you it.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Well yes, but it’s still nice to hear every now and then.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “And I see modesty is not one of your strong suits.”

Crowley shrugged and glanced out the window. “Why deny the facts? I doubt you would deny that you’re always the smartest person in the room.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Well I don’t know about always.”

Crowley tilted his head and was about to argue when the food came. Aziraphale thanked the waiter and then dipped into the nearest roll. Crowley began to get his own food, but he was suddenly and completely distracted by the man across from him.

Aziraphale placed a piece of sushi in his mouth and practically _moaned_. Crowley sat with mouth partially open as he watched Aziraphale close his eyes and sigh. He let out a low hum that reverberated through Crowley’s entire body. His senses suddenly felt heightened. He wanted to reach across the table and be the one to place the next piece in his mouth. To be the one to cause him to make those delicious and mesmerizing sounds. Aziraphale opened his eyes and frowned.

“My dear, is something wrong?”

Crowley snapped his mouth shut. “Ngk, no. No, everything is fine. Completely fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

He busied himself with eating his own sushi, though he didn’t taste it. His mind was still occupied with much more important images. Aziraphale still looked concerned but went back to eating.

Once they were finished Crowley paid, despite Aziraphale’s protests, and drove him back to his shop.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, turning in his seat to smile at him. “This has been lovely. We should do it again some time.”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Aziraphale reached for the door handle, but Crowley stopped him. “Wait, can I have your cell number?”

Aziraphale blinked in surprise, but then smiled. “Oh, certainly.”

Crowley handed him his smart phone, but Aziraphale looked at in bewilderment. “Um, I’m afraid I’m a bit behind on technology.” He pulled out a flip phone that was at least ten years old.

Crowley shook his head and smiled. “That’s fine. Here, I’ll give you my number.”

He took Aziraphale’s ancient phone and added his number to the contacts. Aziraphale took the phone back.

“Right, well, should I text you?”

Crowley shrugged, doing his best to seem like he didn’t care. In reality, he cared very much and would be staring at his phone like a mad man until the blonde sent him a message. “Yeah, if you want.”

“Alright. Well, I must be getting back to work.”

“Of course. Have a good day. See you later.”

Aziraphale got out of the car and with one last backwards glance and wave, walked into the shop. Crowley let out breath and sagged into his chair. Being effortlessly cool was exhausting. He supposed he should go home and relax. And by that he meant pace around his flat for hours while over analyzing every word he had said until Aziraphale texted him and released him from his anxiety ridden spiral into madness. God, what was Aziraphale doing to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's got it bad. Let me know what you thought!


	8. Chapter 8

Crowley had tried to relax, he really had. Once he had gotten home from the definitely not date, he had set about what he normally did during the afternoons. He had flipped on the TV and had gone through every channel his provider offered. But regardless of what flicked across the screen, nothing compared to where his mind kept going.

The sound of Aziraphale’s hum as he ate his sushi, and the adorable way he scrunched up his face, kept replaying in his mind. He had tried everything. He had gone through every app in his phone, he had posted a picture to Instagram, he had watered his plants and even yelled at them a bit. But no. Aziraphale was still on his mind.

Crowley currently sat at his kitchen table, his phone lying in front of him. It was mocking him. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was five twenty-five. Aziraphale should be off work by now, yet he still hadn’t messaged him. Was he going to wait until he got home? Wouldn’t that seem a bit silly, texting him while he was only a few feet away across the hall?

He knew that the truth was that friends didn’t typically text each other constantly, especially not after they had just hung out that day. And that was forcing to the surface the uncomfortable and annoying thought that he wanted more than friendship with Aziraphale. But if that wasn’t was Aziraphale wanted, then it didn’t matter if he did. And the rejection would hurt. So, he would wait for Aziraphale to make the first move. If it never came, then he would just have to settle with being friends with his beautiful and mesmerizing neighbor.

When five forty-five came around, Crowley began to get a bit worried. Aziraphale was almost always home by five thirty. It was only a ten-minute walk to his shop after all. He was well aware that knowing all of this made him a little crazy. But to fair, he had never claimed to be fully sane. By six he had begun to pace.

“It’s ok,” he said aloud. “He probably just stayed at work late to make up for the long lunch he took.”

This did little to dispel his anxiety. These sorts of thoughts weren’t new. When he was young, if his mother or father weren’t home by a certain time he would be sure they had died in a horrible car accident. Sometimes if Anathema was late meeting up with him, terribly images of her being assaulted would force their way into his head. He wasn’t sure what these intrusive thoughts said about him, but he was unwilling to find out.

Just as he was imagining Aziraphale being pulled into a dark alley and being mugged (despite the fact that there weren’t any dark alleys on the path from the bookshop) the sound of whistling came floating in through his open window. Relief flooded his chest as he stepped up to his window and looked down.

Sure enough Aziraphale was making his way up the road with a large brown bag in his arms. Ah, so he had simply stopped and bought groceries. Yes, that was perfectly logical. He smiled and leaned on the windowsill as Aziraphale approached. He was whistling some upbeat tune and there seemed to be bit of a hop in his step. Crowley forgot that he was totally visible from the ground until Aziraphale looked right up at him. Crowley’s eyes widened in shock and he wanted to jump back and hide, but it was too late. Aziraphale had caught him staring at him like a creep. But Aziraphale didn’t look upset. Instead, his face broke into that stunning smile. Crowley felt like he had been hit in the chest with a laser beam.

“Oh, hello Crowley! I was going to text you once I got in. I bought some groceries and was going to cook some dinner. Would you care to join me? I would like to repay you for buying lunch this afternoon.”

Aziraphale had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and was staring up at him. Crowley’s mind was still a bit jumbled, so all he got out was “Ngk, uh, yeah sure.”

“Wonderful! I’ll be right up. I’ll send you a text when the food is ready so you can come over.”

Without waiting for a response, Aziraphale disappeared through the front entrance. Crowley remained where he was for several moments, his body waiting for his brain to catch up.

Had Aziraphale just invited him to dinner? After they had just gone to lunch together? What did that mean? Well, he had told him what it meant. He wanted to repay him. Was that normal with friends? Anathema never made him dinner. Wait, what had been the second thing Aziraphale had said? Had he asked him to come over and help him get the food ready? Yes, he was fairly sure that was what he had said.

Crowley pulled himself from his flurry of thoughts and stepped back from the window. He ran into his closet and began to furiously pull items from hangers. He looked fine, but he couldn’t exactly go to dinner in the same outfit he had gone to lunch in. After much deliberation he decide he would look casual. A well fitted grey shirt with dark jeans and his black boots would do. Just before he stepped out the door, he doubled back and ran to his wine rack. He selected him favorite Cabernet Sauvignon and then headed across the hall.

He had to wait a few moments before Aziraphale answered the door. He seemed surprised to see Crowley, and for a moment Crowley had the horrifying thought that he had misheard everything, and he hadn’t been invited to dinner. But then Aziraphale smiled.

“Oh, Crowley, I wasn’t expecting you to come over until I texted you. The dinner isn’t ready.”

“Um, sorry. I just thought I might help.”

“Oh, well that would be lovely,” Aziraphale said, sounding a bit breathless. He looked down and spotted the bottle in Crowley’s hand. “You brought wine?”

“Er, yeah, I wasn’t sure what you were making, but I figured this pairs well with most dishes.”

Aziraphale seemed to realize they were still standing in the doorway and stepped aside. “Please, come in.”

Crowley didn’t have to be asked twice. He immediately recognized the layout of the room, but other than that the two places couldn’t be more different. Where Crowley’s home was sleek and elegant, Aziraphale’s home was warm and cozy. Large overstuffed couches took up most of the living room, with several bookshelves taking up the walls. Trinkets and knickknacks were set up everywhere. It was like the home of a kindly grandmother. Crowley smiled. It was very Aziraphale.

Aziraphale made his way over to the kitchen, where several ingredients were already set up on the counter and cut up. “Please, have a seat at the table while I finish dinner. Pour us some glasses of the wine, if you like.”

Crowley did like. Two wine glasses were already set out on the table, so he poured two generous glasses. He walked to the kitchen counter and set one down for Aziraphale. He watched as Aziraphale bustled around the kitchen placing vegetables and herbs into a dish with chicken and then placing it in the oven. When he turned back to Crowley, he was smiling.

“I must admit, I was worried you would find it a bit much. Me inviting you to dinner after we just had lunch together.”

Crowley sipped his wine. “I mean, it is a bit out of the ordinary. But I doubt much about you qualifies as ordinary.”

A pink blush rose onto Aziraphale’s cheeks and Crowley couldn’t help but smile into his wine.

“Well, I don’t know about that. I’ve always thought of myself as very normal and boring.”

Crowley let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, right.”

Aziraphale looked genuinely surprised. “I’m serious. I don’t have many friends. Only Newt really. I have other acquaintances from the shop, but nothing personal.”

“Well, they don’t know what they’re missing.” Crowley hadn’t meant to say that, his traitorous mouth was working overtime at the moment. But when he looked back at Aziraphale, he saw that he looked genuinely touched.

“Oh, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I’m not kind,” Crowley grumbled. “It’s just a fact.”

Aziraphale continued to stare at him for a moment before blinking and looking away. He leaned forward on the counter.

“So, Crowley, tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

Aziraphale considered it. “What do you do for a living?”

Crowley took a rather large gulp of wine. “Ah, well, at the moment, nothing.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, I do art. I sell it. But, um.” He hated saying the truth out loud. He knew how it made him sound. “I have a trust fund.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Oh. I see. So, do you not have any desire to do more?”

Crowley shrugged. “Well, I’ve always wanted to make a go of becoming a real artist but, I don’t know. I guess I’ve never really tried.”

He wanted to close his eyes and fall into a bit of burning sulfur. He knew what Aziraphale was thinking. Crowley was some spoiled rich boy who threw wild parties on weeknights and had no motivation and had zero consideration for others. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but it was true. God, what was he doing here? Aziraphale was never going to be interested in him.

“Could I see some of your art?”

Crowley stared. “What?”

“Your art. Would you let me see it?”

“Oh, um, sure. Yeah.” That wasn’t the response he had been expecting. But Aziraphale wasn’t looking at him with disgust. He still had that polite little smile on his lips and that same light in his eyes. “Um, right now?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “We still have twenty minutes until the chicken is done.”

“Oh, ok. Let me go get my sketch book.”

He made his way back across the hall and felt a mild panic rise in his chest. He never showed anyone his work, unless it was something commissioned, and that was rare. Even Anathema had giving up getting him to show her. And here he was, about to open a part of him to man he had only hung out in person with a few times. He grabbed his black sketchbook from his nightstand and walked back to Aziraphale’s.

When he walked through the door, he saw that Aziraphale had sat down on one of the plush couches. He walked over and sat beside him. With trembling hands, he let Aziraphale take the book. He opened the cover to the first page. Anathema smiled up from the paper at them. She was in one of her flowing dresses, with her hair loose and the wind blowing both away from her. He had drawn it after an afternoon at the beach with her from memory.

“Wow,” Aziraphale breathed. “This is stunning.”

Crowley shifted in his seat. “Thanks.”

The next page was a young man on a park bench. He wasn’t smiling. Instead, he stared into the middle distance with a look of loss and sadness. Next was a mother with a small child. She was smiling, but in a tired sort of way. The next was group of teens. Another one of Anathema. A couple, holding hands and laughing. An old man, alone at a park. Anathema.

Aziraphale chuckled. “You seem to have a bit of a muse in Anathema. Are you sure you aren’t in love with her?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Not like that, no. I just find it easier to draw someone when I care about them.”

Aziraphale continued to flip through the pages, and just as he was flipping to the last page, Crowley remembered what was drawn there. He almost snatched the book out of his hands, but it was too late. A small gasp escaped Aziraphale.

It was him. He stood in the between several shelfs of books, his hand folded in front of him, and that heart stopping smile on his face. He had drawn it that evening after inviting him to the party. Crowley felt a blush creep onto his face. He was just glad he hadn’t brought his smaller book, which contained several drawings of Aziraphale, mostly from an above angle as he walked down the street and one of him through a peephole. Those would be horribly incriminating. As it was, Aziraphale seemed stuck on the image in front of him. Finally, after an eternity of silence, he spoke.

“My dear, this is simply exquisite.”

_Yeah, that’s because it’s you_ he wanted to say. “Uh, thanks. It was just a sketch.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Do you only draw people?”

“No, I do lots of things. But I like drawing people best.”

He looked up at him and there was true wonder in his eyes. “My dear, you simply must make a career out of this.”

Crowley scratched his neck. “You think? I wouldn’t have any idea about how to do that.”

“Well, I might know someone. I have a regular customer who runs a gallery. I could show him some of your work.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “You would do that?”

“Of course! You deserve it.”

A slow smile crept onto Crowley’s face. “You’re a real angel, you know that?”

That pink blush filled Aziraphale’s cheeks once more. “Oh, no, I don’t think so. I just like helping my friends.”

Crowley swallowed. “Right.”

Before either of them could say anything more, a timer went off. Aziraphale jumped at the sudden noise.

“That’ll be the chicken.”

He handed Crowley back his book and rushed to the kitchen. He made up a plate for them and once Crowley was seated, placed his plate in front of him. It smelled incredible. They ate in silence for a bit. Crowley still felt very embarrassed and flustered.

_He’s just your friend, you idiot. He just said it himself._

_Yes, but you could change that if you asked him out._

He shoved a large piece of chicken into his mouth. No, he couldn’t do that. He would wait for Aziraphale to make the first move. He glanced up and saw that Aziraphale was concentrating very hard on his meal. He didn’t realize he was staring until Aziraphale looked up at him.

“So, are you very close with your parents?”

Crowley clenched his jaw and looked away. “Um, no, not really. Not anymore.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “No? Me either. As you can tell by my name, I had quite the catholic upbringing. When they found out I was never going to marry a suitable woman and be the proper catholic son they wanted, they told me I could change or leave. And well, since I knew I was never going to change that part of me, I left. I couldn’t imagine living out my life in misery just because the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally didn’t.”

Crowley swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, same for me.”

Aziraphale looked extremely surprised. “Oh?”

“Yeah, uh, but I guess for them it was less about religion and more about public image. My parents like to think of themselves as socialites. Having a gay artist son didn’t fit their mold. So, they paid me enough to go away and not bother them anymore.”

Crowley glanced up from his plate to see Aziraphale looking at him with eyes filled with empathy. “Well, I suppose we do have one thing in common. Although I do wish it wasn’t something so unfortunate, I’m glad to have someone who understands.”

Crowley smiled. “Yeah, same.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I suppose we will just have to make our own family. One built on acceptance and love.”

Crowley wasn’t sure if he meant together or separate, but he nodded just the same. “Yeah, I think I would like that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two messes are starting to get their shit together. Comments are super appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back, baby! Terribly sorry for the long hiatus. But now that Paper Wings, Glass Hearts is finished, I will be updating this regularly again.

Aziraphale hummed as he moved through the stacks of books. He felt lighter than he had in a long time and was well aware of the source of this blossoming hope inside of him. It took the form of a beautiful red-haired neighbor.

They weren’t a couple. For all he knew, Crowley went out to lunch and ate dinner with his friends all the time. And being friends was good. It was a good thing. At least that’s what he firmly told himself.

_Oh, stop being an idiot. You know you want more. You want those gorgeous golden eyes on you all the time. You want to see what else those exceptionally talented hands can do._

Heat filled his face. Those were certainly not thoughts one was supposed to have about your friends. It had just been so very long since he had been in any sort of relationship, let alone with someone in that way. If he were in the habit of being honest with himself, which he wasn’t, he missed it. He missed looking forward to dinners with someone and having someone to go to shows with. He missed long nights and waking up with someone beside him. And oh, the thought of waking up with Crowley beside him… His stomach fluttered intensely.

He had never been with someone like Crowley. All of his former partners had been much more like himself. Quiet, unassuming, business like… a bit vanilla if he was honest. They hadn’t been bad per say, they just weren’t Crowley. Crowley was all bright hair and flash and tattoos and money. He had a swagger that would throw James Dean for a loop and smile that would make the Queen herself blush. Even thinking about it made Aziraphale very warm.

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made for Crowley to be interested in him. He was so soft and bland. Crowley could objectively have anyone he wanted, so why would he take an interest in his unassuming neighbor? Unless… well, unless he just wanted something casual. The twisting in his stomach just picked up its pace. If Crowley was looking for a, what was the term young people were using nowadays? A friend with benefits? Yes, he thought that was it. If that were what he was looking for, would Aziraphale be comfortable engaging in it? He could certainly see the merits. No commitment. Just two friends enjoying themselves in each other’s bodies. Something fun.

He could see it now. Enjoying lunches and shows and walks in the park together, doing what friends do. But then, afterwards, going back to either of their flats and touching each other. Slow kisses, clothes peeled off without haste, gentle hands. Or, maybe not so gentle hands. His fantasy morphed into something hurried and rough. Backs shoved against walls, tongues slipped into mouths, long, painted fingers nails shoving into his pants. Grasping and pulling at him until he cried out.

He blinked and shook his head when he realized he had been standing in the middle of the isle, book in hand, and staring blankly at the shelf for several minutes. He needed to slow down. He didn’t even know if that sort of intimacy was something Crowley wanted. He chewed his lip and went back to shelfing the books.

Once the end of the day came around, Aziraphale sent Newt home and finished closing up. He walked home, still lost in his own thoughts, and considered how best to go about seeing Crowley again. He couldn’t ask him to dinner again. It was much too soon. They had had dinner at his place three nights ago. He could always text him, but he wasn’t used to that. What if he did it wrong or made some cultural faux pas? He twiddled his fingers as he made his way up the stairs to his flat.

As he was approaching his door, he noticed that Crowley’s was cracked open and some sort of rock music was pouring out. He paused. He really shouldn’t go snooping around where it wasn’t his business, but his curiosity got the better of him. He stepped forward cautiously and pushed it open a little more. The whole room was filled with light from the wide-open windows and he saw that the music was coming from a stereo system beside the television. But this wasn’t what caught his attention.

Crowley was standing on the other side of the room, his body facing profile, and there was a massive canvas in front of him. He had a paint brush in his hand, and he was painting some sort of scene. There was a garden filled with lush foliage and a massive wall. A man stood at the bottom of the wall, partially obscured by the greenery, and his back was to the viewer. Only, once Aziraphale looked closer, he saw that it wasn’t a man at all. It was an angel with wings as black as night. He was staring upwards, towards the top of the wall, at a figure that stood atop the battlements. The figure’s back was also to the viewer, and he was emitting a radiant light that lit up the entire surrounding area. His wings were a bright, perfect white, and he held a sword of fire.

Aziraphale felt like he was in a trance, his eyes stuck to the art, as he moved forward and into the room. But before he could get in too far, the floor creaked beneath his feet, and Crowley spun around. His eyes were wide and he flung a hand to his heart. A hand that had coincidentally been holding a paintbrush and flung green paint all over himself.

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry!”

“Jesus Christ, angel, don’t do that! You scared the crap out of me! I thought I was about to get shanked.”

Aziraphale made an apologetic face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just so captivated by your work.”

A pink flush tinted Crowley’s cheeks. “Oh, uh, yeah. It’s still a work in progress.”

“Well I think it’s already stunning,” Aziraphale breathed, stepping closer. “What does it depict?” He could guess, but he wanted Crowley to explain it.

“Oh, um,” Crowley scratched the back of his neck. “I actually had a dream the other night, and I kept thinking about it. I thought it might help to paint it.”

Aziraphale leaned forward to better examine the figures. The dark angel had hair the color of fire, the color of Crowleys. Only it was much longer, hanging to the middle of his back. He couldn’t quite make out the other figure beyond massive white wings and flowing white robes.

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know,” Crowley said with a shrug, though Aziraphale thought he heard a hint of untruth in that. “I just dreamed about them. An angel and a demon. I call it “Seeing the Light”.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, “It’s absolutely spectacular. I’m sure it could sell for quite a lot.”

“Oh, no!” Crowley said quickly. “I don’t plan on selling it.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Now don’t be modest, dear. I’ve told you, you’re talented enough to sell in a gallery.”

“No, no, I know,” Crowley said with a frown. “It’s just, this one is for me. I don’t want anyone else to have it. It feels, I don’t know, personal.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Hmm. That makes sense. Well, in any case, I think it’s spectacular. I would love to have a piece of art like this for my home.”

“Ngk.” Crowley swallowed. “Well, um, I could always… you know. Paint something for you. Something else. For your home.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Oh, would you? I don’t want to take up any of your valuable time.”

“No, no you wouldn’t be. I would like to do it if you want.”

Aziraphale felt a smile growing on his face and something that felt an awful lot like hope building in his chest. “Yes, my dear, I would like that very much.”

“Right, well, what would you like it to be of?”

Aziraphale glanced back at the painting in front of him. “Oh, I’ll leave that to you. Whatever you want to paint for me, I’ll love.”

“Alright,” Crowley said quietly. “But it’ll take a few weeks at least.”

“Not a problem at all, dear. You’re doing me wonderful honor. Take as much time as you like.”

Crowley hunched his shoulders. “Not that big of a deal. Just a painting.”

“Even still, it means something to me. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he grumbled, but there wasn’t any bite to it.

Aziraphale smiled. “Right, well, I should be going. Don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

“I don’t mind you take you taking up my time.”

Aziraphale stared at him. He was facing partially away and staring fixedly out the window. He had the strongest urge to reach out and trace his fingers over the tattoo on the side of his face, but at the last moment he clenched his hands tightly to his sides. He couldn’t just go around touching people whenever it struck his fancy. Especially not beautiful, interesting people like Crowley.

“Well, good. But still, I should go. I’ll see you later, yes?”

“Yeah, of course. We do live right across the hall from each other.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Quite right.”

He turned and began to make his way towards the door, but Crowley’s voice stopped him. He made a chocking sound and then shouted “Play!”.

Aziraphale turned back and frowned. “What was that dear?”

Crowley had gone a bit pink. “Um, you remember Bee? From the party? Well, she’s in this play of sorts. It’s not exactly a West End production, but I’m supposed to invite people. It’s this Sunday if you want to come with me.”

Aziraphale blinked and tried to gather his thoughts. Crowley was inviting him out again? Admittedly, to a friend’s show where a bunch of his other friends would be, but still. He wanted to spend more time with him. He must have taken too long to answer because Crowley began to immediately back track.

“But you don’t have to if you don’t want to! It’s a bit silly, really. Probably not your scene. So if you don’t want to-“

“I would love to.”

Crowley stopped with his mouth partially open. “You would?”

Aziraphale smiled widely. “Yes! I love going to see shows, even small ones. It’s such fun seeing all the hard work the people put into it simply for the joy of the art. I think it’ll be a lovely time.”

“I, yeah, yeah it will. Cool, so, it starts at seven. We could leave here together around six thirty?”

“That sounds wonderful. I look forward to it.”

He made his way out of the flat and unlocked the door to his. Once inside he leaned back against it. Well, that had been pleasantly unexpected. He hadn’t been lying, he _was_ looking forward to it. It had been awhile since he had been to a play, and the idea of going with Crowley made it all the more thrilling. He imagined how it would feel to sit in the dark space, side by side, shoulder and arms brushing every now and then. He would probably be close enough to smell Crowley’s cologne and feel his breath when he leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

And oh dear, he was already getting hard in his pants. He scrunched up his face. That could not happen on Sunday. It would be humiliating. Crowley would think he was some sort of pervert who got off to thoughts of hands reaching into tight pants in public places. He closed his eyes. That assumption wouldn’t be wrong. He _would_ enjoy that. But he couldn’t say that to Crowley.

He began to make his way to his kitchen when another thought crossed his mind. He replayed what had happened when he had startled Crowley and remembered what he had said. Had he called him angel? He had. He was sure of it. But what did _that_ mean? Angel was a fairly unambiguous pet name. He felt his heart flutter. Well, that was certainly something. But perhaps it had simply been because he had been in the process of painting an angel, and the word had just slipped out. That was possible. He bit lip. Well, he wasn’t going to get an answer, so there was no point in speculating. With a small shake of his head went back to opening his refrigerator door. The only way for him to get any answers was for him to spend more time with Crowley, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think! I will try to update quickly, as I have a lot of thoughts on this story. Feel free to leave a comment below!


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